Loss
by chica blanca
Summary: Do you believe time heals all wounds?


AN: This started out one way and then veered in a different direction

AN: This started out one way and then veered in a different direction. Not really my usual style but it's decent I guess…

Loss

Toshiro watched with bland eyes the man kneeling in front of his desk. He could practically smell the anxiety rolling off the nervous man and could see his tense muscles through the black uniform. He clearly did not want to be here; and Toshiro clearly did not want him here. Not exactly starting off on the right foot.

_Not that he started off on the right foot with her._

The thought came unbidden and he fought the bile that tried to choke him. Luckily there was nothing really in his stomach for it to reject. Trying to chase away the memories and the taste in his mouth, he took a long swallow of the now cold tea before he returned to the matter at hand; namely, what to do with his new addition.

He sighed and decided he couldn't stand any more of the tense atmosphere and didn't really care how un-captain-like his next command was going to sound.

"Leave."

Nervous eyes looked up from their previous inspection of the floor. "S-sir?"

"Go. Get out." He leveled a glare at the still not moving man. "Are you deaf?"

The man licked his lips. "But, sir. The captain commander gave me orders to…"

"I. Don't. Care." He set the teacup down before he crushed it in his tight grip. He was pissed, annoyed and tired all at the same time.

The man must have thought death by ice dragon didn't sound very fun and executed a formal bow before swiftly getting to his feet and slipping out the door. In his haste to leave the presence of the cold captain, he neglected to slide the door shut behind him.

_Pathetic._

He winced at the guilt that followed that thought. Slumped in his chair, he was so caught up in his own inner turmoil he didn't notice his visitor until he spoke.

"Chased him away already, huh?"

Toshiro lifted his gaze to take in the figure leaning with his back against the doorjamb. Not really in the room or out, he wasn't looking in Toshiro's direction, instead focusing on something down the hall.

"What are you doing here?" There was less bite to his voice than he would have liked, but he couldn't find the effort to put any real acid in his words.

Eyes darkened with shadows met his as the orange haired teen turned his focus into the interior of the room. "Where else would I be?"

Toshiro sighed and picked up his cup before deciding that cold tea really wasn't that appetizing. "If you're going to stay then come in and shut the door, otherwise go away."

Ichigo chuckled before slipping all the way into the room and sliding the door shut behind him. "The old man going to keep sending them?"

Toshiro drummed his fingers on his desk and looked the teen over critically. The black uniform seemed to hang from his skinny frame and dark smudges marred the skin beneath his eyes. "Do you ever eat?" He was well aware he was avoiding the initial question but he didn't really want to have that conversation just yet.

He could practically feel the other man's eyes rake over his body just as critically. "I could ask you the same." His arms folded across his chest. "Besides, s'not like I'm useful or anything. You're a damn captain. People still depend on you."

Toshiro scowled and rejected the childish urge to throw his cup of tea at the other man. "Right."

There was silence for a minute as Ichigo perched against the back of the sofa. "I lost track of the number of days it's been since they..." His voice was a soft as a confession. "It shouldn't matter, but it _does._" He swallowed thickly and stared at his fidgeting hands.

"Ninety-three." Toshiro supplied tonelessly.

Ichigo blinked and looked up in mild shock. "It's been that long already?" Toshiro just nodded. Ichigo blew out a large breath. "It doesn't feel like that long."

"Why do you think they're pushing me to get a replace-" he stuttered before continuing, "A replacement?"

"I still don't really see why. They should be hounding Ukitake instead. How long has he had two third seats and no second in command?" Ichigo's eyes shifted to the dusty desk on the other side of the room. "They have no tact."

"This is a military…"

"The war is fucking over." Ichigo interjected forcefully. "And at the end of war, you grieve those you lost."

Toshiro's hands balled up into fists on top of his desk. "Since you have all the answers, just how long am I supposed to grieve?" he snarled, not backing down even though the flash of pain in the other's face flooded him with guilt once again.

There was an ironic twist to Ichigo's lips. "I don't know. I've never gotten to that point."

They shared a tense moment of silence, each lost in their own thoughts of the past. Toshiro couldn't help but bring her face to mind as much as it hurt. The office felt empty and cold without her presence and he just couldn't stand the thought of bringing in someone who was going to tiptoe around him all day.

"None of them fit. You know what I mean? They are all too…formal; too afraid to even speak without stuttering."

Ichigo licked his lips as his brow furrowed in thought. "You won't find someone like her. You can't replace those who die." He said the last line like a mantra.

Tilting his head to the side he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "And part of the reason they're all afraid of you is because you act like you're about to chop their heads off."

Toshiro scowled. "I wouldn't do that. Too much extra paperwork."

"But you _like_ paperwork."

"Not enough to kill some pathetic peon."

Ichigo accepted that point with a roll of his eyes before growing sober once again. "Do you believe time heals all wounds?"

Toshiro was struck by the slightly hopeful tone to Ichigo's voice. Like a man knowing he was destined to the executioner's blade but still clinging to the hope of a last minute pardon.

Toshiro closed his eyes. "No. There are some wounds that just don't heal."


End file.
